


‘cause i see sparks fly (whenever you smile)

by dancedance_resolution



Category: Diary of a Future President (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Pining, bi!belinda, elena is a ~theatre kid~, the fairy gaymothers KNOW things.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27788257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancedance_resolution/pseuds/dancedance_resolution
Summary: Belinda nodded as she reached over to grab her mass market paperback copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, her and Elena’s class reading for this quarter. She smiled to herself, staring at the floor next to the book; she couldn’t help how she was just a little bit enamored with the way Elena knew things, like how she was able to pull words like “Bechdel test” out of thin air and use them in (what Belinda assumed were) applicable and intelligent ways. So Belinda simply nodded along with a surreptitious smile when Elena said smart things like that.///4 times Belinda pined + 1 time she didn’t have to pine anymore
Relationships: Belinda/Elena Cañero-Reed
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	‘cause i see sparks fly (whenever you smile)

**Author's Note:**

> cw: food
> 
> This fic is for DoafpWeek2020 Day 1: Ships. Hope you enjoy!

“Look, I get that this book is a classic or whatever, and I’m sure I’ll get something out of it. But it’s not like I’m clamoring to hear another White person’s ‘hot takes’”—Belinda emphasized the phrase with half-hearted jazz hands—“on racism.”

“Yeah, I feel the same way. But at least it’s written by a woman and has a female narrator. It’ll hopefully pass the Bechdel test.”

Belinda nodded as she reached over to grab her mass market paperback copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_ , her and Elena’s class reading for this quarter. She smiled to herself, staring at the floor next to the book; she couldn’t help how she was just a little bit enamored with the way Elena _knew things_ , like how she was able to pull words like “Bechdel test” out of thin air and use them in (what Belinda assumed were) applicable and intelligent ways. So Belinda simply nodded along with a surreptitious smile when Elena said smart things like that.

They were in Elena’s room, sitting on the carpet as they got settled with snacks and fancy fizzy water. When their English teacher had announced that annotations for one chapter of _To Kill a Mockingbird_ would be due every Thursday, Elena had suggested that they could work together on the readings. So the plan arose: each Tuesday, they’d read the chapter out loud together, Elena reading all the odd chapters, and Belinda reading all the even ones. 

So here they were now, the setting sun peeking through Elena’s blinds as they leaned against her bedframe. “ _When he was nearly thirteen_ ,” Elena began, “ _My brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow. When it healed, Jem’s fears of never being able to play football again were assuaged._ ”

“What does assuage mean?”

“I don’t know. I’ll circle it and we can come back to it.”

“Okay.” Belinda circled the word in her copy as well, and Elena continued.

“ _He was seldom self-conscious about his injury. His left arm was_ …”

Elena’s face scrunched up in focus, finger trailing along the page to guide her reading, and it was quite possibly the cutest thing Belinda had ever seen. She methodically worked down the page, occasionally underlining a phrase or two before resuming her intent reading. Her voice was steady and paced, almost as if Elena’s words were the graceful yet driven movements of a strong and confident dancer.

Elena was really just _like this_ , so capable and composed. Belinda had never really gotten to appreciate Elena’s prowess for public speaking until she’d delayed the morning announcements that one day, just for her.

It was moments like this in which it struck Belinda how much Elena really cared about her. Elena was willing to risk her job as morning announcer for her, willing to read out loud with her even though she’d probably get it done more quickly on her own, willing to risk her reputation to sit with her every day at lunch.

And it was moments like this in which it struck Belinda how much she truly, truly cared for Elena too.

“Belinda?” Elena’s voice, seemingly slightly amused, interrupted her haze of thoughts.

“Oh, um, yeah?”

“D’you daze off?”

“Oh, uh, sorry, no, I was hearing it all, my, um, my eyes just went out of focus or whatever. Sorry about that.”

Elena grinned a little. “It’s okay! Here, I’ll start back at the beginning of page seven.”

\---

“Goodbye, Belinda! Love you!” Elena’s whole face lit up with her endearing smile as she waved.

Belinda prayed the that seven-thirty-p.m. darkness would cover up her blush because— _holy crap_ , Elena just said “Love you” and Belinda was having _freaking heart palpitations_ about it.

Belinda gave an admittedly _slightly_ panicked smile in return before heading down Elena’s lawn, her backpack slung over her shoulder. Her dad was waiting in his car at the bottom of the driveway to pick her up, so she made a beeline for the old sedan. But, oh, oh no, it probably looked suspicious that she was running, and what if Elena saw her sprinting away from the house as if she was all too elated to be leaving? Oh no. (Belinda ignored how she felt her face flush even more at the prospect that Elena was still watching her leave, making sure she got into the car safely. And maybe as Elena did so, she was letting her thoughts linger on Belinda…)

Okay, Belinda just had to slow down. One foot in front of the other. Don’t trip over the grass like the disaster bisexual that she most certainly _wasn’t_. One foot in front of the oth—wait, were her hips doing something weird, like, swaying too much? Well, now that she was focusing on them, they definitely were. But, did she _want_ Elena noticing her hips?

_Oh no_.

Belinda tried to calm her racing thoughts. Logically, she knew the “love you” was just a friendly remark; Elena was always verbally affectionate with her friends and made an effort to demonstrate her appreciation for everyone she interacted with. And thus, apparently, four book-reading sessions with Belinda warranted a “Love you.”

It was still kind of a lot, though. In perhaps the best, but also maybe the worst, way possible.

“Hey, Lindy,” her dad said, greeting her with a smile as she opened the car door and flung her backpack onto the floor. “How’d your playdate go?”

He meant it jokingly, wanting to tease her with the childish term “playdate” despite her repeatedly insisting that these events were to be referred to as “reading sessions” or “hang outs”—because she was older, and mature, and in middle school now. Yet, here she was, in the back seat of a beat up Ford Taurus that was just as old as she was, spiraling about the second half of that word: date. A smile unwittingly grew on her face. _Imagine going on a_ date _with Elena, and holding her hand, and buying ice cream with her, and maybe seeing a movie together, and—_

“Um, it went good!” Belinda said, shaking her head as if the motion could rid her mind of all these lovestruck thoughts. Her voice was all too high pitched, like some stupid nervous child whose crush had just made eye contact with her.

Well, if she was going along with that analogy, then she had to point out that her crush did so much more than make eye contact: she said _Love you_ to her.

God, Belinda was _hopeless_.

“Glad to hear your playdate went well,” her dad responded, shifting the car into drive and pulling out onto the street. “Did you eat dinner with the Cañero-Reeds again or should we pick something up on the way home?”

“No, um, I, uh, I ate with them. Arroz con pollo. It was good.”

“Homemade?”

Belinda simply nodded, not trusting herself to form words as she thought back to how Elena’s hand had brushed against hers when they’d both reached for the serving spoon at the same time during dinner earlier that evening. The mere memory of it sent a swarm of butterflies soaring in her chest. She began fidgeting with the ponytail on her wrist.

“So, how’s the book so far? Anything interesting happen in today’s chapter?” her dad asked, trying to make conversation.

“Um,” Belinda started, desperately scanning her brain for _anything_ they read today. Was this the chapter where Dill got Scout to play the Boo Radley game? No, that was last week. Even though Belinda herself had read the chapter out loud today, her mind was still coming up blank, probably thanks to the fact that Elena was just so _cute_ when she laughed at the funny parts and hummed in concentration and never made fun of Belinda when she tripped over her words and—

“We read about Dill getting Scout to play the Boo Radley game,” Belinda said, giving up on trying to remember what they’d actually read today. (Hopefully she hadn’t mentioned that plot point to her dad last week.)

“Now who’s Dill again? Sorry, Lindy, it’s been years.”

Belinda took a deep breath. She could summarize Dill’s character to her dad and put the night’s events—the night’s _love you_ —in the back of her mind to dwell on at some later and more convenient time. Yeah. Yeah, that was a good plan.

“Okay, so Dill came to Maycomb for the first time back in chapter—” _Remember how Elena was chewing on the tip of her pencil, her eyes squinting with focus, when you read that section?_

Did Belinda mention that she was hopeless?

\---

Elena auditioned for the school musical, _Mary Poppins Jr._ , in October. Even though she wasn’t in the play—couldn’t be, since rehearsals ran at the same time as detention—Belinda found herself eagerly refreshing the school’s theatre department website the second the clock hit six that Friday, which was when Ms. Awad said she’d post the cast list.

At 6:02, a Google Doc popped up the top of the page.

Her phone began ringing approximately six seconds later.

“Belinda!” Elena exclaimed, joyfully shouting into the phone. “I got the part! I got the part! I’m Jane Banks!” Elena announced the name with an attempt at a posh British accent, even though she’d told Belinda last week that Ms. Awad unequivocally stated that they would _not_ be using accents for this musical.

Belinda grinned. “Ahh! I’m so happy for you, Elena! And I’m so excited to see you star in the show! I know you’re gonna do so amazing.” Belinda could hear Ms. Cañero-Reed congratulating Elena and asking her to stop jumping for a second so she could give her a hug.

“Okay, I have to call Sasha now, but I’ll call you later, okay?” Elena said, sounding a bit breathless.

“Yeah! Congratulations again, Elena. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you!”

Belinda could practically hear how Elena was _beaming_ , probably looking so joyful and just _radiant_ , on the other end of the line.

“Bye!”

“Bye, Elena!”

Belinda hung up the phone, still feeling a bit high on the rush of excitement about the casting.

She decided that she’d bake Elena a batch of celebratory cupcakes, maybe create little signs out of toothpicks to stick into the frosting and spell out “Congrats Jane.” She could bring them over tomorrow after school, make a date out of it—

Er, not a date. And _event_ , that was the correct word.

So Belinda went into the kitchen, pulled out her ingredients for her aunt’s lemon blueberry cupcake recipe—the ones she’d made for Elena’s birthday last month that Elena had insisted were the best cupcakes she’d ever had—and got to work.

Baking had always been a calming project for Belinda. That was until she grew close to Elena, though. Now, whenever she donned the apron, her mind echoed with thoughts of _Elena would be happy if you made one with extra icing for her. It would make Elena smile if you made one with barely any icing so she could give that defective cupcake to Bobby if he asks for one. Elena’s gonna be impressed with your baking skills._

And, inevitably, her mind also echoed with thoughts of _You have an unrequited crush on your best friend_. (Was Belinda even allowed to use that adjective—“best”—about Elena?)

(Nonetheless, Belinda just tried really hard not to think about that whole “unrequited” part of it.)

Soon enough, the oven was beeping, letting her know that her treats were done. She carefully pulled them out and set them on the cooling rack before folding a little extra lemon zest into her completed frosting.

Belinda finished decorating the cupcakes at 7:15, and before she could psych herself out of it, she packed them up in a plastic Tupperware container and biked over to the Cañero-Reed house.

Elena answered her nervous knock. “Belinda? Hi!” Elena glanced down at the container. “Oh my god, Belinda! Did you make these?”

“I, uh—”

“Mami!” Elena called out as she ushered Belinda into her home. “Belinda’s here!”

Belinda heard Ms. Cañero-Reed’s faint “Hi, Belinda!” from the other side of the house as Elena grabbed her hand and guided her into the dining room.

Yeah, hand holding was a thing now, an addition to their repertoire of softly reading to each other; saying “I love you” (the mere addition of “I” somehow making Belinda’s heart pound even more rapidly); hugging each other (so tightly, in fact, that Belinda wanted to _burst_ with affection); baking for each other; and all the other wonderfully heartwarming but painfully platonic gestures of friendship they routinely engaged in.) Bobby and Sam were sitting at the table, along with two women Belinda had never met before.

“Cami, Danielle, this is Belinda,” Elena said, “and Belinda, this is Cami and Danielle.”

“Hi,” Belinda responded with a timid wave.

“Hi, Belinda,” Cami said before giving Danielle an almost sneaky smile. “Elena’s been telling us all about you.”

Belinda wasn’t sure whether to be worried or honored, and when she looked at Elena, it appeared as though she was willing laser beams to erupt from her eyes in order to punish Cami for saying that.

“Alright!” Elena suddenly said a bit loudly—wrapping her arm around Belinda’s shoulder to direct her into the kitchen and away from Cami—before she continued eagerly, “Can I try one of the cupcakes?”

“Of course! They’re for you, a gift to congratulate you on getting your role.” Belinda gave Elena a shy smile.

“Oh my goodness, thank you. And you even put little signs on them, aw, Belinda!” Elena said, turning towards Belinda and looking her in the eyes. “Thank you,” she repeated, more earnestly this time. She took Belinda’s hands into hers, and Belinda honestly felt _so_ connected to Elena in that moment—it was like no one else existed except for them.

Until, of course, she heard Cami snicker in the other room and glanced over just in time to see Danielle elbow her while Bobby shook his head with a laugh.

“Here, try one,” Belinda said, reaching for the one with extra icing _and_ (an attempt at) a piped icing flower on top. “I decorated this one specially for you.” She leaned towards Elena and whispered, barely restraining a giggle, “And since I know Bobby’s gonna ask for one, I made him this puny one with barely any icing.”

Suddenly, Elena was hugging her tightly, _warmly_ , and they were both gleefully laughing. “You’ll stay and have one with me, right?” Elena asked before finally pulling away, almost as if she was reluctant to do so.

“Of course, Elena.”

\---

Since _Mary Poppins_ rehearsals and detention ended at the same time, Elena and Belinda started walking home together. It was Elena who’d sort of started the tradition, running out of the auditorium to meet Belinda at six-p.m. sharp every day. They just talked on their way home, enjoying each other’s company and conversation. Or rather, Elena would talk on their way home, and Belinda would get so enamored and be smiling so much that all she could do was chime in occasionally.

But all in all, it worked for them. Elena always had a good story to tell, and she was the most animated, captivating storyteller anyways.

“So Cami and Danielle got engaged,” she started one Thursday in December.

“Oh yeah?” Belinda responded. She suddenly felt the threat of an oncoming blush. Belinda didn’t know that Cami and Danielle were _gay_.

Elena’s family was friends with a gay couple. And said couple was composed of queer women—hey, Belinda was a queer woman too! She felt that sort of nervous joy that she experienced whenever she saw LGBTQ representation on TV, except in a much more intimate way.

“Yeah, they plan on getting married in the Fall. It’s Danielle’s favorite season.” Elena paused, uncharacteristically quiet and seemingly contemplative. “I think I’d like to get married in the Fall too.”

“Me too. I love the reds and yellows and burnt oranges. And I love how the Taylor Swift songs hit different in the Fall,” Belinda said with a laugh. “You know, we could be each other’s bridesmaids and wear Fall-colored bridesmaid dresses.”

A moment passed.

Okay, so, either Belinda was imagining things, or Elena seemed a little disappointed that Belinda would want to be her bridesmaid.

_Crap. She was probably coming on too strong._ “Or, you know, we just attend each other’s weddings, you know, since you and me haven’t been friends that long, and—”

“No, of course I want you at my wedding, Belinda. I just,” Elena trailed off. “Yeah. I want you there, Belinda.”

“Okay. I want you there at my wedding, too.”

Elena smiled softly before meeting Belinda’s eyes. “Yeah.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way home.

\---

“ _He turned out the light and went into Jem’s room. He would be there all night, and he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning_.” Elena dramatically slammed her book shut. “We’re finished!” she said triumphantly, before adding a groaned “finally.”

Belinda smiled. “Can’t wait to never read any ‘real literature’ ever again. A lifetime of _Supergirl_ fanfiction, here I come!”

Elena giggled before collapsing onto Belinda’s side. Her head rested on Belinda’s shoulder. “I’m going to miss reading with you every Tuesday, though.”

“Me too,” Belinda said, her words airy and her heart racing at the sweet sentiment (and, okay, maybe the contact too).

“Maybe, um, maybe to make up for, uh…”

That was odd. Belinda had never heard Elena stammer like that before. She was always so confident.

“Maybe since we’re not reading together every week anymore,” she finally blurted out, “maybe you, um, you could, like, come to the movies with me. To see that new WonderWoman film. Like, um, on a, um, a date.”

Belinda looked over at Elena, her face burning with blush and her gaze intently set on the floor. Belinda’s own face, she supposed, was probably similarly red. “Yeah,” she said gently. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“So, um, so it’s a date?”

“Yeah. It’s a date, Elena.”

Belinda felt Elena’s pinky tentatively brush against hers, and soon, Elena’s fingers were intertwined with hers. They were holding hands—but this time, in a decidedly not “just friends” way.

_It’s a date_ , her mind replayed.

Belinda couldn’t stop herself from smiling wider than the Sunshine Skyway Bridge.

**Author's Note:**

> belinda ships supercorp i said what i said.
> 
> Please consider leaving kudos and comments if you enjoyed this fic; I really appreciate them :) And thank you to tumblr's @/freshlybakedfandoms for organizing this DoafpWeek event!


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